Educate Yourself
by CayCharming
Summary: John and Sherlock switch iPods for a week and it leads to a surprising discovery.


**Summery: **John and Sherlock switch iPods for a week and it leads to a surprising discovery.

**AN**: Sorry this is so short, fluffy, and the summery is so dumb but I was on a bit of deadline and I didn't have much time to write given all the real people things I'm doing in the boring real word. But I did my best here and I like how it came out.

This is part of the Johnlockchallenges Valentine's Day Gift exchange and I was matched with _sherlockintheshire_, whose prompt was: "Music, if possible featuring Sherlock and his violin, but I'm not fussy."

Final note, I like to imagine Freddie Highmore as Sherlock, and Max Thieriot.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Educate Yourself<em>**

* * *

><p>"John Hamish Watson!" Sherlock Holmes shouted from the living room of their flat.<p>

He really should be used to this; the god-awful noise John called music. He played the horrendous stuff as loud as his stereo would go when he showered. But usually, John was kind enough to take showers when Sherlock was at class or out.

But not today, John was breaking his pattern today and that infuriated and peeked Sherlock's curiosity. Everything about John was curious. That was part of the reason he loved that they were flat mates.

The 20 year old was just simply fascinating to 19 year old Sherlock. There was nothing about him that was boring which was a quality he had never found in anyone else.

They had been living together for about a year now. Sherlock is studying at university and John is studying to be an army doctor.

Mike Stamford introduced them and since then they have been addicted to each other's presence.

To Sherlock, John was a puzzle that got more complicated and interesting with each passing day. He was kind; he cared, and unlike everyone else at University, didn't think he was a freak. His brother was beginning to think what he felt towards John was some sort of sentiment but Sherlock was sure that wasn't it. He didn't feel sentiment for anyone. That was a waste of his knowledge and time.

To John, Sherlock was this beautiful, brilliant, young man who was so astonishingly clever that he could do anything he wanted. It was impossible, not to fall in love with a boy like that. How could he not fall in love with the man who had turned his boring little life into this great mysterious adventure?

Sherlock groaned from the kitchen when the base of music seemed to be getting louder.

"Turn that treacherous thing you call music down!" Sherlock shouted up the stairs toward John's bedroom but the loud drums and screeching continued.

Sherlock pouted and rested his forehead on the wall, much like a child would when his playing was interrupted.

"John, I'm doing an experiment and you're making it impossible to do!" He whined.

Sherlock sighed and was forced to listen to the worlds of the song for moment.

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm going numb, I've been hijacked.<em>

_It's a fucking drag._

_I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you._

_So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do."_

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh the screeching again,<em>" Sherlock thought with a roll of his eyes as the man or very awful sounding woman starting singing about something about nicotine.

_Odd how John is listening to song about nicotine when he hates everything about smoking," _he thought as he walked up the stairs.

If John wasn't going to turn his music off, Sherlock was going to do it himself. He wouldn't stand for this any longer.

He entered John's bedroom and was about to waltz right into the bathroom but he couldn't the door was locked. Why on earth would the door be locked? John never locks the door!

Sherlock was about to demanded to know why the door was locked but soon he got his answer. He heard a rather loud erotic moan come from the bathroom and he was sure it wasn't coming from John's silly music.

…It had come from John.

Sherlock stiffened a bit and his face went a light shade of pink. He knew he should just leave and pretended he never heard that but he was so utterly curious. What other sort of sounds did John make when he was masturbating? What was he thinking about? How often did he do this?

He pressed his ear to the door and he cursed the damn music John was listening to know because it was actually drowning out those lovely sounds he was making.

Sherlock waited, he stood there and waited for the song to change but the next one was even louder.

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm waking up; I feel it in my bones.<em>

_Enough to make my systems blow._

_Welcome to the new age, to the new age._

_Welcome to the new age, to the new age."_

* * *

><p>Sherlock rolled his eyes and practically stomped down the stairs. Why did John have to listen to such loud noise? Not only was it annoying, it was getting in the way of wonderful sounds John was actually making!<p>

"What on earth are you stomping for?" Mrs. Hudson, their landlady asked as she came up the stairs and into the flat.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and plopped down in his chair, he glared at her, and he knew he shouldn't but now he was frustrated, with John, with his music, with not being able to get inside that damn bathroom.

"John's music, aren't you annoyed by it? It's awful," he answered.

She chuckled and walked into the kitchen, "Sherlock, just because you do not listen to that sort of thing doesn't mean it's awful. Most people listen to rock music…Sherlock where are they chicken feet on my table?"

He raised his eyebrows, as if he had no idea what she was talking about because for the moment his mind was upstairs.

When she pointed the plastic bag of chicken feet, he nodded.

"Experiment," he mumbled, utterly bored with it now. "That's what they call that type music? I would call that birds screeching to the sounds of drums played far too loud."

"Clean up your mess, Sherlock. You're a grown man despite the fact you don't' look it."

He rolled his eyes and stepped into the kitchen, "I will, don't you have something to cook or clean?" He asked her, trying to get rid of her because he wanted to be alone with John.

"I do, and if you stay in this grumpy mood I won't cook your favorite biscuits anymore." She warned.

Sherlock sighed, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"I'll clean, I promise." He assured and she left to retire downstairs, closing the flat door behind her.

**oOo**

After Sherlock cleaned up his mess, he sat in his chair; hands pressed together, his fingertips touching his lips as he thought about John Watson.

Why was he so affected by this man? It simply couldn't be anything sentimental. That was impossible. He was incapable of such thing. Maybe he was just attracted to John. He was a handsome man. Muscular, blonde, bright blue eyes. It made sense.

Sherlock smiled to himself, yes, physical attraction. Nothing foolish like actual feelings.

"What the hell are you smiling to yourself about?" John asked with a chuckle as he stood in the kitchen staring at him.

"Oh," Sherlock whispered, opening his eyes.

John stood in the kitchen wearing his pajama pants and nothing else. Not abnormal but now Sherlock couldn't help but let his eyes wander over his chest for a moment.

When John seemed to catch him doing this, he coughed nervously and looked away.

"When did you get here?" He asked and John stared at him as if he was slightly concerned Sherlock was losing his mind.

"I've been downstairs for about half an hour now. I'm making dinner."

"I thought I smelt something." Sherlock said as he stood, walking into the kitchen.

John was making Spaghetti. Poorly, once again. He doesn't know how to do it properly but Sherlock has stopped complaining about it because it seemed to hurt John's feelings when he did because it was his mother's recipe.

"Why did you have the music so loud while you showered? You made it impossible for me to do my experiment." He scolded as he sat down at the kitchen table, pretending to be interested in his phone.

"Helps me relax," came the young man's reply.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk just a bit; glad John's back was turned toward the stove.

"It's awful, I wish you would educate yourself and listen to some real music."

John chuckled and turned to look at Sherlock, "What you listen to is not real music. It's ancient music that villains listen to in movies." It was clear the man was only teasing but Sherlock glared anyway.

"It's music everyone should listen to, John. It's scientifically proven to calm you down." Sherlock corrected him.

John rolled his eyes wearing a fond smile as he turned back to the stove.

Sherlock studied John's tone back for a moment, wondering what it would be like to actually touch. He was still a virgin and there had never been anyone he was sexually interested in until John came along.

"My music calms me down. You're music would make me fall asleep." He explained and Sherlock smiled a bit.

"I've played my violin while you were studying a few nights ago just to see if you would actually drift off. You did." Sherlock said and John turned around to look at him with shock.

"I was studying for a test! Why did you do that?"

Sherlock felt a faint warmth come to his cheeks and he looked at his phone again.

"Experiment." He mumbled and he heard John sigh.

"Can you please stop doing experiments on me?" He asked and Sherlock looked up with a bit of grin.

"On one condition," Sherlock warned.

"Oh God, What is?" John asked with an exhausted expression on his face, this could lead nowhere good.

"You listen to my music for a week." He said and John's nose scrunched together with confusion. He thought it would be much more than that.

"Do I get to listen to my own music?" John asked.

Sherlock smirk grew a bit wider and he shook his head, "No. Just mine. If you succeed. I'll never preform another experiment on your again."

"No, I'm not doing this unless you agree to listen to only my music for a week." John chuckled quickly shaking his head, that simply wasn't fair.

"You're music? God, no, John. I'm trying to educate you. I don't want to lose IQ points." Sherlock said and John chose to not let that get to him.

He stood there for a moment, arms crossed over his chest as he tried to figure out someway to get Sherlock to listen to his music too.

"I bet you couldn't." He said with a wide grin, a challenge, Sherlock could never resist a challenge.

"What?" Sherlock asked, even though he had heard John perfectly well. He just wanted to see if John would take back what he had said.

"I bet you couldn't listen to my music for a week. You'd end up cheating." John said smugly.

Sherlock chuckled, shaking his head as he stood, moving closer to John.

"Fine, just to prove to you that I have more restraint then you, John. I will. And I will win." He said cockily and John rolled his eyes, turning away from Sherlock to tend to the food.

"Great, and you can't cheat. No looking up songs on your phone and no playing any on your violin."

Sherlock gasped, "Performing is different than listening, John."

John shook his head, a smile on his lips, "You can play anything you like as long as it doesn't sound classical."

Sherlock glared at his back for a moment before going to go sit back down at the table.

"…Fine. And If I win, I get to do experiments on you whenever I want." He said, sounding like a spoiled child.

"And if I win, you stop." John said with a shrug.

The room was tense for a moment and Sherlock had feared he was making the wrong decision in doing this, but oh, he loved to prove John wrong.

"What happens if we tie?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"We flip a coin," John said as he grabbed the pot of boiling noodles and brought them over to the sink.

"That's leaving it to chance, John." Sherlock mumbled, obviously annoyed.

"Got any brighter ides?" John asked and he turned to look at him.

"…If we tie, I promise if I preform experiments on you, you'll enjoy them."

John couldn't read Sherlock's face anymore. It was a face he had never seen him give. That smirk on his lips was the only thing that let him know that whatever he was thinking could possibly be dangerous...but also thrilling. The excitement in Sherlock's eyes told him that he truly would enjoy it.

"That's very vague," John heard himself say.

"If we tie I shall go into further details." Sherlock promised, the smirk fading from his lips.

John thought for a moment, trying to weigh the pros and cons, he saw more pros than cons and after taking a deep breath, he nodded.

"Alright. Deal. When do we start?"

Sherlock grinned.

"Tonight. I'll give you my iPod. You give me yours."

**oOo**

The next morning when Sherlock went to listen to his music, like he usually did when he studied, he was greeted to the worst song he had possibly ever heard in his young life...which was saying something because Mycroft used to like Britney Spears.

* * *

><p>"<em>Do you know the enemy?<em>

_Do you know your enemy?_

_Well, gotta know the enemy, wah hey."_

* * *

><p>Sherlock sighed and turned to the next song. He needed to find something that he could actually study to. Something that wasn't loud guitars and apes banging on drums. Why didn't John have any nice slow music?<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!<em>

_Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh!_

_Caught in a bad romance._

_Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!_

_Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh!_

_Caught in a bad romance."_

* * *

><p>This...This wasn't actually that bad. Slow piano balled, but Sherlock was sure he had heard this as a god awful pop song. He looked at the title curiously, <em>Bad Romance Cover by 30 seconds to Mars<em>. "Odd, Name." He hummed and he left it on that song as he continued to study.

...Maybe John's music taste wasn't that bad.

**oOo**

John had thought he had found a way to cheat the system. He simply wouldn't listen to music for a week. But that was harder than he imagined. He had missed his music so much he was now singing it whenever Sherlock wasn't around.

But he figured he had to at last listen to a few songs to make it fair. So the third night of there bet, John laid down in his bed and began listening to Beethoven.

John actually liked it, it was nice to listen to, but as he feared, he fell right into sleep.

**oOo**

On the sixth night, Sherlock was beginning to get a bit carried away. He never thought that John listened to songs that weren't all loud drums, guitars, and screeching. He had actual ballads that stuck in his head. He found himself humming them in the shower, or in class, and once he made the mistake of humming one around Mycroft who assumed something had him smitten.

Now it had gotten to the point that he simply had to play one of the songs he heard on his violin.

John happened to be walking up the stairs when he heard what Sherlock was playing and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"No, he wouldn't." John whispered to himself.

But as John continued to listen he could hear _The End Of All Things _by Panic! at the Disco.

Sherlock was playing one of _his_ songs. One of the songs he adored. One of the songs that made him think of Sherlock.

John peeked through the flat door, watching with a look of awe and adoration in his eyes as Sherlock played. It was possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

He finally had the nerve to step into the flat, and when he did, Sherlock stopped playing. John frowned and quickly shook his head.

"Don't stop," he pleaded as he closed the door behind him.

Sherlock could tell by the look on John's face that he was enjoying what he was hearing which was lovely, but he was going to stick to the rules of the bet.

"I have. Can't have you listening to your music." Sherlock reminded him.

"To hell with my music and your music, I want you to play for me, Sherlock. Play that song for me." He ordered.

Sherlock stood there, his face turning a bit red with confusion and embarrassment.

"So we're done with the betting nonsense-

"Yes! Now play, please." John said as he moved closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock wasn't sure what exactly had changed John's mind on the bet, but he picked up his violin again and started the song from the beginning.

John moved to sit in his chair as he watched Sherlock, his entire focus on him.

Normally, Sherlock could play the song without feeling any nervousness at all, but John's eyes on him made him blush and rush through the song.

When he was done, he put his bow and violin back in it's usual place and when Sherlock turned back around, John was now standing.

"Um, Did you like it? It was one of the few songs of yours I actually liked." He explained and John nodded, moving a bit closer to Sherlock.

"I loved it. Even without the words it's still beautiful." John said and Sherlock couldn't bring himself to push the man way as he wrapped his hands around his waist.

He swallowed nervously and stared into John's stunning eyes. "Yes, the lyrics are quite nice." Sherlock said, stuttering just a bit.

Christ, why was his heart pounding? Why did he feel like he was about to melt into John's arms?

John smiled softly, leaning a bit closer, pressing their noses together. "That song always makes me think of you."

Sherlock's eyes closed, chills covering his entire body. "I...why?" He asked nervously, his eyes opening again.

John pulled away, smiling at Sherlock as if it was obvious. "Because I love you, can't you tell?" He asked.

Sherlock's face redden and he felt something inside of him melt and shattered. "No, but I suppose I can now." He answered as he looked down shyly.

God No, was he shaking? He should have gotten this first kiss out of the way years ago so he wouldn't be so nervous.

"I...I care about you, John. So much. I can't say I love you because I've never been in love before. You...You'd have to show me." He explained.

John chuckled, "I have no problem teaching you a few things, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock closed his eyes once more because John was getting closer and closer to his lip.

Then, John was kissing him and he felt his body come to life with electricity. It felt like the kiss had gone on forever but also like it ended far to soon. When they broke apart for air, Sherlock looked at John, panting a bit as he wrapped his arms around him.

"Educate me, John Watson. I want to learn everything." He said with a grin before John pulled him into another deep kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>


End file.
